


Look into My Eyes (and See the Past, Present, and Future)

by iPlaySports



Category: Glee
Genre: Childhood friends to strangers to lovers, Co-workers, Ex-Military!Blaine, Ex-Military!Sam, M/M, Terminal Illness, Trigger Warning: Terminal Illness, but they're teachers??, hevans, idk whats going on here tbh, school au, teacher!kurt, teacher!sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-17 21:40:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29599122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iPlaySports/pseuds/iPlaySports
Summary: Kurt Hummel meets the new Self-Defense teacher and somehow already feels completely comfortable. Maybe that's just the way Sam Evans is, or maybe there's something more at play here...
Relationships: Artie Abrams/OMC, Blaine Anderson & Sam Evans, Past Kurt Hummel/Mike Chang, Sam Evans/Kurt Hummel, Tina Cohen-Chang & Kurt Hummel, Unrequited Kurt Hummel/Blaine Anderson - Relationship
Kudos: 9





	Look into My Eyes (and See the Past, Present, and Future)

**Author's Note:**

> HELLOOOOOOO AO333333. god i have not posted in a while. well, here you are. this was supposed to be done by valentines day but there was a test (read: 4 diffferent tests) I had to study for and time got away from me. Either way, better late than never, right? well anyway, i present to you my first clusterfuck of a hevans fic.

"Mr. Hummel! You should draw the new SD teacher!"

Kurt looks up from where he's drawing Blaine for the millionth time to give a half glare at Mason, who is visibly vibrating. He takes Advanced Art after lunch, so sometimes when he forgets his meds, he can't sit still in Kurt's class. Which Kurt honestly doesn't mind, but sometimes that means Mason being disruptive in class, even if it's just stimming.

"You know, every time a student has ever told me to draw a teacher, it's because they think said teacher is cute and they have a crush on them." Kurt starts to go back to his drawing, then looks up, confused. "Wait, 'new' SD teacher?"

"Yeah, Mr. Puckerman quit, remember?" This time, it came from the other side of the room, and when Kurt turns, he sees the green-headed Bishop Carlson grinning at him. "Good riddance, if you ask me. That guy smelled like chlorine and protein powder."

"Mr. Carlson, be respectful." Kurt warns, finishing his drawing. He knows that Blaine isn't into him, but the sweet, but strong self-defense teacher caught his attention some time last semester, and he hasn't been able to shake the feeling. Kurt glares at the drawing, pristine and fluid, just like every other. "I need a rebound crush."

"YOU HAVE A CRUSH?" Briana Carlson shouts far louder than necessary, and Kurt flinches. He has to remember that these kids have exceptional hearing, and to keep his thoughts in his own head. "On who? Did you tell them? Do they like you?"

Suddenly the class is buzzing; due to the teachers living on campus, it was a well known fact that any time a teacher had a crush, it was on another member of the staff. This was especially true of the principal and the Psychology professor, who had been together for just under four years. Unfortunately, given that the principal's kids were Bishop and Briana Carlson, they knew that drama happened. And given that they were both students under their father, they also thought they were untouchable, despite multiple pieces of evidence to the contrary. Kurt had seen them both threatened with expulsion multiple times, which never seemed to deter them from seeking out trouble.

"Ok, ok, how about this." Kurt stands to silence the class, who're getting very rowdy. "If I do your gosh dang drawing session, will you lay off my love life?"

"YES!" The class says unanimously. Kurt blinks in shock; he hadn't been expecting that.

"Do you swear an artist's oath not to mention it again?" Kurt pushes them. He knows they won't agree to that. He's told them that the strongest thing an artist has is their word, and that they need to keep all their promises to gain the trust of their subjects. They won't make a promise they can't keep.

Except every student in the class agrees, listing punishments should they break their word. Kurt groans internally, then nods.

"Alright, fine. Who's got self defense next period?" Kurt nods again as Mason, Bishop, and Briana raise their hands. "Ok, I'll walk you to the gym, spotting from the bleachers. Mr. Williams, this was your idea, you get to introduce me. Deal?"

"Deal!" Mason smiles, then yelps when the bell suddenly rings. The students start packing up, and Kurt smiles.

"Ok, Who's finished? Leave the portrait on my desk, standard portfolio. Williams, Carlson’s, Morales, I want your projects on my desk by Monday and no later. The rest of you, start thinking about your midterm. We are doing an open subject piece, so I don't want to hear about how you couldn't find anything to do." Kurt gathers up his notebook and opens the door, letting students into the hallway. "Class dismissed!"

The flood of students almost knocks him over, but once the bulk of students are out of the room, he lets Mason lead the way to the gym, the Carlson twins trailing behind him. Briana is hissing fervently under her breath, and Bishop hisses back with the same vigor.

"You could ask him." Bishop finally says. Briana is silent, then addresses Kurt; "Professor, Do you think Mr. Anderson will be upset that I haven't practiced my hand to hand?"

Kurt forces back the blush that threatens to taint his cheeks. Mr. Anderson, Blaine Anderson, Blaine. Blaine, who he's had a crush on for four months. He can't shake that fucking feeling, despite being turned down, despite knowing he will never have that.

"I think that he'll be more upset about having to go on hiatus than you not practicing, but honesty never hurts your case." Kurt says, and its the truth; Blaine went through some harsh things when he was a kid, he'd never get mad at a student. "Besides, it's the boys you really should be worried about. You know how your father's "two week" policy is."

With that, Kurt opens the gym doors to see Blaine correcting a student's form and an unknown blonde sparring with another. The blonde pulls away, then sticks their leg out and catches the student's ankle, dropping them. The student lands hard, and just as Kurt is about to step forward, the blonde steps back, his long hair pulling away from his face just enough for Kurt to see a dark scar under his left eye.

"You don't shield your legs. Your stance is wonderful, but none of you shield your legs. Jesus fucking Christ, who taught you?" The blonde slaps his hand over his eyes before sliding it down his face. "I mean, Jesus Christ, I'm not only going easy on you, but I have one fucking hand!"

Kurt takes a step back at that line, and when Mason pulls him forward, he becomes aware that he's staring. The blonde does only have one hand and one forearm while we're at it; his left sleeve is knotted just below the elbow, concealing the stump that clearly fills the rest of the sleeve. Mason tugs him forward again, this time grunting out a "c'mon!" with the effort. At the noise, the blonde turns to face them, and Kurt feels like he's been sucker punched. The blonde’s features are cold, calculating, observant, his square jaw set. His bright green eyes trace Kurt's face, then drop to Mason's. After a second of looking at Mason, he breaks into an easy smile, and if Kurt had felt breathless before, then this was straight up suffocating. His smile was bright and relaxed, and his green eyes, a few seconds before icy and hard, were now sparkling and kind. His tangled sun-kissed hair falls into his face, and Kurt feels the overwhelming urge to push it away, to remove the offending strands that block his view of that beautiful face.

"You're late." The blond laughs, turning his attention back to Kurt, the smile quickly tucked away. "And who is this, Spider Boy?"

"I tell one person that story..." Mason grumbles, then turns to Kurt. "This is Professor Hummel. He teaches Advanced Art and Drawing. Professor Hummel, this is Mr. Evans."

"Kid, I told you to call me 'Sam'. 'Mr. Evans' makes me feel old." Sam pushes his hair out of his face, frowning at the strands that catch on his fingers. "Anyone got a hair tie? I'm getting sick of this mess getting in the way."

Bishop steps forward, handing over a teal band. Sam takes it, then frowns at it, glancing towards his arm. Kurt steps forward, pulling the tie out of his hands.

"I can do it. Santana- I'm sorry, Ms. Lopez- taught me how to do this." Kurt pauses as he starts to move behind Sam. "That is, if that's okay with you?"

"Yeah, I guess I could hold still long enough for you to do that. Though I would feel better if Blaine did it." Sam turns his back to Kurt, jerking his head once in Blaine's direction. "I know her, you know that? Maybe someday I'll tell that story, when we both agree its time."

"Huh." Kurt twists the hair up into a sharp bun, smiling when he manages to twist the tie without pulling Sam's hair. Nearly the second he lets go, Sam turns quickly, and Kurt takes an involuntary step back, hands suddenly raised in surrender. "Whoa, calm down. I don't want to fight."

"It's not that." Sam flushes suddenly, rubbing the back of his neck. "I just... I don't like people standing too close behind me."

"Oh. Sorry." Kurt steps back again, vaguely aware that he is very red in the face. "Uh, I'm just going to..."

Kurt gestures awkwardly to the bleachers, then takes two steps before he turns back, a question he's never considered before pushing out of his mouth.

"Um, can I draw you?"

"Pardon?" Sam blinks at him, and Kurt awkwardly raises his notebook. "Oh, um, yeah, I guess. It's not like I care."

"Yeah, Mason wanted me to do it. My entire fifth period, actually. I didn't think they'd be able to agree on that." Kurt nearly trips on the bleachers. He wasn't aware he was walking backwards. "Sorry, I swear I'm normally way more put together than this."

"That's ok, we all have our off days." Sam smiles, and Kurt feels his heart speed up. "You can draw me whenever."

Kurt turns away before Sam has time to change his mind. He settles in the very back of the bleachers, sketching fervently as Sam teaches the boys how to guard their legs and properly block attacks on the lower half of the body.

By the time the bell rings, Kurt has six new pictures. Mason points at things he noticed Sam doing, perfect snapshots of motion captured by memory and a pencil. If he notices that not a single student in the pictures is clearly defined outside of the gym uniform, he doesn't say anything.

Kurt is up far later than he'd like sketching those cool green eyes.

\--

"Good afternoon, Mr. Hummel!" Kurt nods vaguely in the direction of the student's voice, holding back swears as he fails once again to get the degree of shading he'd like on the scar. Yesterday, he had been flustered; today, he was tired and couldn't seem to get his drawings right. He moves his elbow to grab an eraser and ends up knocking over a glass of paint.

"Frick!" Kurt frowns at the stain blemishing his notebook, then moves to clean up the mess. His students' projects are fine, but his notebook is now ruined. "Ugh, I liked that notebook!"

Kurt stalks across the room and grabs a rag, wiping up the mess and trying to ignore the growing headache. He really should warn his students that he might be snippy. The bell rings, startling him and making him knock over the paint, again. For a brief second, he feels completely calm, a sign that an outburst is coming. Then he's throwing the rag against the desk, a ragged shout accompanying the action.

"Fuck!" Kurt turns and stalks from the room, shouting over his shoulder, "Free period today. I want a basic outline on my des- in the project bin by the time the bell rings."

Kurt barely makes it out of the room before he's running through the halls, outside in the woods outside the academy. He runs and runs and runs, barely registering the rattling in his chest until he collapses, wheezing as he fights for breath. Fuck, fuck, fuck! What the hell was wrong with him?

"Um..." The voice comes from in front of him, and Kurt musters a growl before the tightness in his chest steals it. He looks up, glaring. He does  _ not _ want to be near people right now, asthma attack be damned.

The cool green eyes that meet his nearly shock him out of fighting for air. Sam kneels to his level, staying back but clearly concerned. Kurt feels another rattling gasp burst out of him, and as Sam moves forward to help, he holds up a hand, warding him off. Kurt takes another few minutes before the attack fades and he can breathe normally again, but now he's embarrassed and angry.

"Ok, what the fuck was that?" Sam says, creeping closer. Kurt pats the ground next to him as an invitation for Sam to approach, which he thankfully takes, sitting next to Kurt and keeping a close eye on him.

"Asthma-" Kurt cuts off, the asthma squeezing his lungs like a vice. "Asthma attack. It happens sometimes when I'm upset. Haven't had one this bad in a few years. I'm ok."

"Asthma- Jesus, punk. Don't you have meds or some shit to help?" Sam says, clearly angered. "That shit could kill you! And why the fuck are you running in the woods if you got asthma! You trying to die?"

Kurt shrinks away from the noise, and Sam almost immediately quiets, a soft "ah, Jesus" snaking around him before a hand presses against his heart. Kurt is so surprised he becomes aware of the tightness in his chest, and he forces a few deep breaths.

"You ok?" Sam looks satisfied with Kurt's small nod. "Good. I'm sorry I got loud on ya. I had a friend when I was little who was the same way and I swear that idiot was trying to get himself killed with the way he triggered the attacks. I guess you reminded me of him."

"I'm sorry for worrying you. It just got too loud in my head, and today has been... frustrating, to say the least. I had to get out of my classroom before I flipped out on my students."

"Has that happened before?" Sam suddenly looks wary, almost afraid.

"Not exactly. I had a panic attack in front of them once, and now I have permission to leave the room if I feel my presence is dangerous to either the students or myself. I've never flipped out on them, but I know they'll be worried." Kurt frowns at Sam. "Speaking of class-"

"No. This is not about me. Are  _ you _ ok?" Sam taps his shoulder, and Kurt suddenly wants nothing more than to melt into the touch.

"Honestly?" Kurt watches as Sam nods slowly, then relaxes his body. "No. I'm all wound up and I don't know why. It's loud in my head and I'm frustrated for no identifiable reason, and then I spilled paint on my notebook, twice, and it just got to be too much and I-"

Kurt only becomes aware that he's crying when Sam presses a hand against his heart again, forcing him to slow his breaths. A few deep breaths later, Kurt continues.

"I just... I felt the snap coming and I just had to get out, and I didn't- I forgot- I wasn't paying attention to where I was going, and I just... ended up here." Kurt leans against Sam before he feels the blonde tense. "Shit, sorry. I wasn't thinking."

"No, it's ok-"

"It's clearly not, you practically jumped out of your skin. If touch is a thing for you, I promise I won't do that again without your consent." Kurt sits up, pulling away from Sam.

"Its- I actually- I- Ugh, I have to explain this don't I?" Sam groans, throwing his head back. "I'm actually super touch starved, it's just that I got back from a military tour 6 months ago and I kind of spent 3 years before that in a POW camp in the middle east. I don't know where exactly and they never told me, but I was serving in Afghanistan before that happened, so I don't know."

"Jesus." Kurt suddenly has a thought that he's not sure he likes. "Are you okay to be around kids?"

"Yeah, I can't answer that question, to be honest. I had the same question when the principal approached me about a job, but my therapist from the VA does counseling here part-time, and he said that it might be good for me to be near kids, since they're pretty much the exact opposite of what I was exposed to. I haven't told him about Blaine, of course, so maybe not."

"Oh, that was you!" Kurt smiles at Sam's look of shock. "About three years ago, Blaine applied to be a substitute here, and Sue- Sorry, Coach Sylvester- just ended up hiring him on at the end of the year. He always told us that he was helped out of a bad situation by a soldier, but it wasn't until a few months ago that he told me about the... you know."

"Huh." Sam muses on that, then nods. "Yeah, that was me. First thing I did when they got me, actually. He had been resisting them for a while, but when I got my chance to escape, I gave it to him. Blaine needed it more than me."

Kurt sits there, watching Sam flop down onto his back and stare at the sky. A sudden movement catches their attention, and Sam is on his feet much faster than he should have been, considering he was missing an arm. The student looks wide eyed at them, then waves. Kurt recognizes him from his 3rd period art class.

"Hi, Mr. Hummel. Mr. Sam, we found your flag." The student holds up a torn coral handkerchief, and Sam snorts loudly. "Does that mean we win, or does it not count because, um..."

"Get your mind out of the gutter, kid. And yes, you win. You got the flag, right?" Sam holds his hand out and the student hands him the handkerchief. Sam turns back to Kurt. "You should probably go back to your class, 'Mr. Hummel', before your students get worried."

"Yeah, probably." Kurt stands, then turns to head back to the academy. At his sudden and obvious confusion, Sam snorts again and points to his left. "Thanks."

"Hey, since you're apparently too dense to catch the subtlety, I never got your name." Sam jokes, and Kurt turns around, rolling his eyes. "Or are you okay with being addressed as 'Professor Hummel' by your peers?"

"Kurt. My name is Kurt.”

"Kurt Hummel." Sam gives a small, private smile, then looks at Kurt. "That's a nice name."

Kurt runs the whole way back to the academy, trying to outrun the nagging feeling that he shouldn't feel nearly this good.

\--

"Do you like him?" Rachel is asking. Kurt nearly chokes on his coffee, but manages to hide it, clearing his throat loudly.

"What?" Kurt asks innocently, turning to face Rachel. Rachel gives Kurt the 'I-know-you're-hiding-something' look, and Kurt tilts his head, trying to act innocent.

"Do you like him?" Rachel repeats, elaborating when Kurt gives him another blank look. "Is he nice, rude, abrasive? Do you like him, Kurt?"

"Oh. Yeah, I like him. Kurt turns back to the fridge and searches for his lunch. "Did Blaine take my lunch again? I can't find it."

"You accuse me of such things, Kurt?" Blaine laughs from behind him, and Kurt rolls his eyes dramatically. "Kurt, keep sticking your ass out like that and Mike might pop you one."

"He wouldn't dare. He knows I have evidence of things he wouldn't want circulating." Kurt smirks at Mike's suddenly rigid form in the corner of his eye. "Yes, I still have those. Wouldn't want them to 'accidentally' end up on Sue's desk."

"You- Why do you still have those?" Mike protests, smacking Kurt's side.

"Mm, blackmail." Kurt smiles at Mike's choking noise. "I'll get rid of them soon, don't worry. It's not like I still look at them."

"Chang, you send people nudes or something? You work at a school!" Kurt nearly drops his lunch when Sam speaks up, and he stands quickly, turning and catching his eye. "And you, you keep that shit? Nasty!"

"Only to blackmail him. It wasn't something I'd want to hold onto." Kurt smiles at Mike, who returns the smile easily. "I've seen better, Mike."

"WOOOOOW! Okay, I see how it is!" Mike laughs as Blaine chokes on his coffee and Rachel grumbles "every damn time." Somewhere in the back of the room, Tina pipes up with "Do I have to come back?", and Kurt shakes his head, beckoning Tina forward.

"Blackmail, huh? What happened to the awkward virgin act, Kurtie?" Sam purrs, and Kurt isn't laughing anymore. Blaine turns and gives Sam a confused face, which helps a lot, because if Blaine didn't see that coming, then his reaction won't seem out of place.

"Kurtie?" Mike parrots, shutting the fridge with his foot. "What the hell, Kurt? Are you two a thing or something?"

Sam goes pale when he hears that, then very red. He mutters something about how "it just slipped out", and Kurt remembers the conversation they had in the woods a few days ago.

"That friend you told me about, he had the same name as me?" Kurt notices how much Sam relaxes as he nods. "I must remind you of him a lot."

"A lot of it is you guys are so similar. Honestly, you threw me for a bit of a loop when you asked to draw me. He did that too." Sam munches on some grapes, then stares out the window. "I wonder what happened to him."

"Weren't you friends?" Blaine teases, and Sam rolls his eyes.

"Yeah, but I haven't seen him since I was, like, 9. I shit you not, for the 3 years I knew him, I was his best friend. He was real sick and scrawny, and he'd pick a fight with anything that moved."

"Sounds like a handful." Kurt muses.

"Oh, you have no idea. That little shit shaved half the years off my life, I swear. He had no respect for his own mortality, and what's worse was he'd throw a fit when I saved his skin."

"Wow, Kurt, sound familiar?" Rachel nudges him, and Kurt scoffs.

"That's different, he was hitting a kid. You would have stepped in, too."

"I would have fought the guy off, not acted like a human shield. I mean, jeez, Kurt, you know you're only human.”

"You would have- You know what? No." Kurt glares at Rachel and Blaine, who are both stifling giggles. "I'm not playing that game."

"What game?" Mike asks innocently.

"This game where you get me all riled up and then use it as proof that I pick fights too easy!"

"We don't do that."

"YOU'RE DOING IT RIGHT NOW!"

"Kurtie, calm down, you'll set your asthma off." Sam's hand is over his chest, and Kurt's breathing slows. "There. Now, can you at least admit you get wound up too easy? Cuz I can't imagine trying to deny it after that display."

"Ok, maybe." Kurt turns back towards the fridge to put his food away, he's not going to finish lunch, when Rachel’s expression catches his attention. "What?"

"'What'? 'What'? 'What' is what the hell was that? I've never seen you calm down that fast, ever," Rachel gestures wildly at Kurt. "He's been here for five days, and you already trust him enough to touch your chest?"

"It's not a big deal, Rach, I told you. He's solid in my book." Kurt turns to get Sam’s affirmation, but he and Blaine are gone, leaving only Rachel, Mike, and Tina. "Besides, it's a little late for me to withdraw trust."

"What's that mean?" Tina asks, pouring herself a cup of coffee, her lab coat stained and wrinkled.

"Jesus, Tina, do you ever wash that thing?"

"A student spilled coffee on me when I was confiscating it for a lab. You didn't answer my question."

"He, uh... I kind of freaked out the other day and went for a run. Ended up having an attack in the woods, where he was playing capture the flag with his gym class. He found me and helped me calm down."

"You hate being near people when you melt down." Mike says skeptically. Kurt shrugs, then glances at the clock. Three minutes until the bell. Three minutes until he can escape this conversation.

"Kurt, seriously, did something happen between you two? I know you've been taking Blaine's 'no' pretty hard-"

"God, Mike, no! Jesus, why does everyone go straight to sex? I was having a bad day and he just sat with me until I felt stable enough to go back. It's not a big deal."

"Ok, but you hate being found," Rachel counters.

"He's new, and he didn't push his boundaries. I didn't want to snap at him so I just glared at him hoping he'd go away.”

"You had no problem snapping at me," Rachel steps forward, and Kurt recognizes her stance, her 'therapist mode'. Kurt holds back a groan. "Kurt, I'm serious. I know you've been taking the whole thing with Blaine pretty hard-"

"Rach, that was a month ago." Kurt groans.

"Yeah, well, you broke up with me six years ago and you were mopey and sad for like 4 months before you finally could stand to talk to me again." Mike interjects. Kurt growls, then glares at Mike.

"I'm. Fine." Kurt refills his coffee and heads for the door as the bell rings. "And you should be getting to class."

Kurt pointedly ignores the little voice in his head that mentions that for the first time in 4 months, he's not drawing Blaine in his personal notebook.

\--

"Mr. Hummel, are you ok?"

Kurt is staring at the picture in his notebook, his chest tight and his breathing labored. It's a picture of a picture, the original photograph lost to time. It's a picture of his best friend from when he was little. The initials in the corner read "K.E.H.+J.S.E.", and when Kurt had screened this notebook to show to his class, he hadn't seen this picture. He must have missed it. He should say he was fine, make a joke about the past and move on. Except he couldn't. Those cool green eyes looked so familiar...

"Professor Hummel!" Kurt snaps back to the present. Mason is shaking him, fear prominent in his actions. Kurt shakes his head again, then turns the page.

"I'm sorry. I haven't seen that picture in... 15 years or so? I think I drew the copy when I was 13? Yeah, threw me off a little." Kurt gives a light smile, then shakes his head again. "I mean, my memory is perfect, you'd think I'd remember that."

That gets a laugh out of the class; they all know about his eidetic memory, and it's extreme fastidiousness towards minor details. Kurt manages to brush aside the strange feeling in his stomach until the class is dismissed, but when he's cleaning up the room, he leans against the counter in the back at a strange angle and suddenly the ache transfers from his stomach to something else. Kurt steps back, then glares at the bulge in his pants.

"Are you shitting me." Kurt grumbles, ignoring his little problem in favor of cleaning the room.

He gets it half done before frustration takes over. This little problem is the product of everything he's been feeling, and also an example of why he's been feeling it. He's not snippy for no reason, like he thought a week ago when he had his asthma attack. He's horny, and he knows exactly who is on his mind that's causing his discomfort.

"Well, fuck." Kurt grumbles. A small chuckle alerts him to the presence of someone else.

"You have far less tact when children aren't involved." Artie laughs as Kurt blinks, then sits down, gesturing to his desk. Artie moves his wheelchair to sit behind the desk, absently picking up Kurt's notebook, the leather surface well worn. "May I?"

"Of course, Artie." Kurt watches as Artie manages to turn to the exact page that had shocked Kurt not thirty minutes prior. Artie gives a small smirk, then closes the notebook, looking up at Kurt.

"You love him." Artie says simply. Kurt goes very pale until Artie taps the notebook. "The boy in this picture, you love him."

"Loved." Kurt corrects. "I don't know what happened to him. He moved away when I was 8. But yes, he was my first love. My first crush, long before I knew what the word actually meant."

"He looks familiar." Artie smiles again, and Kurt notices how much more relaxed he is around Artie. The man seems to have that effect on everybody; he's kind, and patient, and anyone who knows him knows that he does not easily lose his temper.

"He almost looks like our new addition. Our Mr. Evans, if you will." Artie suggests, and Kurt finally allows himself to admit what he's known for a while.

"I guess he kind of looks like Sam." Kurt shrugs, trying to pass it off as nonchalant. Artie simply watches him, allowing the silence to bring Kurt to the conclusion he already came to. "Ok, I might have a small crush. He looks like my childhood crush, big deal. I hardly know anything about him, so it's not exactly something that'll be discussed."

"I think, Kurt, you allow yourself to suffer in silence because you are waiting for someone. I think, no, I strongly believe that you never forget your first love, and that when you look for love, you look for the traits that person carried." Artie gives a sad smile. "I know that is true of Elliot and I. We knew each other long before we became lovers, and I don't know if that is why we became lovers, but I do believe we were in love before we knew what the word meant. It isn't outrageous."

"That seems too convenient for me." Kurt says, shrugging again.

"What did you love about him?" Artie taps the cover of the notebook, and Kurt has a sudden memory of a blonde with green eyes laughing at him, asking to see his pictures even though he had said, repeatedly, that they weren't ready. Kurt feels his breath catch; how had he forgotten that?

"I..." Kurt decides to answer honestly, but only for the first few traits. "I liked that he was honest. He was honest and loyal and funny and patient and kind. He liked tiger lillies even though everyone said that was a girly thing and that boys didn't like flowers. He wore purple and sang songs that he made up and he was always humming, even when he  _ had _ to be quiet. He was the only person who ever believed I could actually make it as an artist, and he always smelled like pinewood.”

Kurt had intended to stop after a few things, but once he started, he couldn't stop. Memories swirl in his mind, and he can't stop.

"He had this stupid red beanie that he wore literally everywhere and called it style. He had a younger sister who I taught to scam someone out of six dollars in a row, and he was always stealing my erasers because I ‘couldn't get rid of my art without looking at days of work as I ripped it to shreds’. He taught me the constellations, and I'm 90% certain he made some of them up, but he was such a great storyteller that I didn't care. He taught me all the words to "Bohemian Rhapsody" and he doodled on his right arm when he was nervous. He beat someone up when they called us ‘queer’ for hanging out all the time, and he taught me how to fight properly, because according to him, if I couldn't stay out of trouble, he might as well teach me how to get out of it.”

Kurt realizes he's crying, and he slowly places a hand over his heart, pressing much harder than necessary. The motion feels familiar, much too familiar. He calms down enough to finish speaking, but he can hardly hear what he's saying.

"I remember we were both poor, and one day, on my 8th birthday, he told me that his family was talking about moving to the mountains, and the next day, he was gone. I think his parents skipped town, but I never saw him again. I remember I cried every night for 3 months because he was my best friend, and he was just gone. And just make matters worse, I lost my mother 3 months later.”

Artie nods, and Kurt wipes his eyes, hiding his face. He remembers now, how he had screamed himself hoarse when he'd found out that his friend wasn't coming back, that he was gone forever. He remembered drawing the picture in middle school before it was lost to the fire that took his mom, remembered that he drew so many other things in that notebook and then put it aside, left his memories to decay, to rot into nothing. How he forgot because it was too painful to remember.

"Kurt?" The voice catches his attention, and Kurt looks up from where he's crying at one of the tables to look at the door, where the voice came from. Sam is standing in the doorway, concerned but hesitant to approach. Kurt sniffles, then beckons him forward, where he takes a seat to Kurt's left.

"On your left." Sam smiles, nudging him with the stump of an arm. Kurt feigns disgust, which gets a laugh out of them both. "What's up with you? Artie just came out and said that you were crying."

"I'm okay now." Kurt lies, faking a smile. It must not be very convincing, the way Sam scrunches his nose. "I was thinking about an old friend, and I guess I got to thinking."

"We're all doomed." Sam mutters. Kurt swats Sam's shoulder, frowning. "Okay, okay! Jeez, nobody here can take a joke."

"What makes you say that?"

"Well, I was talking with Mike-"

"God help us."

"-AND he mentioned being sorry for the whole 'blackmail' incident the other day."

"Oh, God save us." Kurt buries his head in his hands. "You asked if he had any of me, didn't you?"

"I would never!" Sam feigns offence, but his pink cheeks betray him. "But, yeah, I don't know. I was in the army, what do you people expect from me?"

"To not be dirty minded. There are kids here."

"In the teachers' lounge?"

"You'd be surprised. Living on campus with the students really does wonders for that "You're my superior and therefore I should be scared" complex." Kurt laughs when he thinks about Mason's request from last week. "In fact, my students have gotten wise to the fact that I don't draw people unless asked, and given an incident from a year ago involving a picture I was drawing for Artie' birthday, they now ask me to draw people anytime there's anyone new on campus. Which happens a lot."

"So where do you sleep? I know that there's always at least two chaperones in the boy's dorms, and two in the girl's, but I haven't met the other chaperone yet and I don't know how that works."

"Oh, you're paired with Mike right now, and he does that towards February. He's prepping for murder season.”

"Sorry, what?" Sam stares at Kurt like he just grew antennae. 

I’m kidding.  _ Jeez, you can’t take a joke, _ " Kurt mocks, then pulls Sam to his feet. "Come with me. I want to take you to my room."

"Whoa there, Hummel! Buy me a drink first." Sam laughs, and damn if he doesn't have the cutest laugh ever. Kurt wrinkles his nose, then pulls Sam along, taking him upstairs to the sixth floor, where the teachers live.

\--

"You've never been up here before, have you?" Kurt says as they enter the common room. Sam's wide eyes and open mouth answer for him.

"So, we have a kitchen up here, which is why we don't always eat with the students. Every teacher has their own room, and we work on a rotating schedule for chaperoning the dorms, which is a month off, two months on. And it's not always the same dorm. The middle school aged boys don't room with the high school boys, and even high school is separated by lowerclassmen and upperclassmen. You're with... Freshmen/Sophomores?" Kurt feels pleased with himself when Sam nods. "Right, so you're going to be there for another month and a half, give or take, and then you'll get your own room for a month. Then they'll probably move you to the upperclassmen, then off, then middle school. it overlaps so that... Using you as an example, Mike's off in February, and he'll be replaced by Tina. Then you're off, replaced with me. Got it?"

"Yeah, but it's kind of confusing. Like, do you really need it like that?"

"Yes." Kurt says, laughing. "I tell you, before Mike and I had that brief stint of... whatever the hell it was, we were at each other's throats whenever we had to spend more than a day sharing the same space. The rotation means that when- not if, when- you get paired with someone you don't click with, you only have to spend a month with them, then you get a two month break before starting again. It goes like that until the school year's over."

Kurt twists the knob to open his door, and it breaks off in his hand. Kurt stares at it for a minute, then frowns while Sam dies laughing behind him. Kurt glares at Sam, who doesn't try very hard to stifle his laughter.

"You think this is funny?" Kurt says, exasperated.

"I'm sorry, but your face-hahahahaha!" Sam clutches his stomach, giggling as he nearly falls over. Kurt tries not to laugh, but Sam's bubbly laugh is so honest it's infectious. "You looked- you- Ahahahahaha- you- you looked so mad!"

Sam gasps for breath, then dissolves into laughter. Kurt snorts, then starts laughing himself, a small wheeze turning into barking laughter as he sits on the floor next to Sam, both of them starting again when one looks at the other.

Kurt sighs loudly when he finally can stand to look at Sam without bursting into laughter. "Ah. I don't think I've laughed that hard in months."

"Months?" Sam looks at him with a face that's supposed to convey hilarity, but sobers instantly when he sees Kurt is serious. "Months? Jesus, Kurtie, that's not good for you! You're supposed to laugh at least three times a day, you know that? It's good for your body, for your immune system."

"Explains why I'm always sick." Kurt smiles, but it doesn't feel real. Sam grabs his face, forcing him to look straight into those intense green eyes.

"Hey. I'm serious. You need to laugh more, Kurtie, it's not good for you if you don't." Sam takes on an expression that Kurt rarely sees anymore, now that Sam's warmed up to him. "I will make it my goal to make you laugh everyday for the rest of the school year, if that's what it takes. Don't kill your smile, okay?"

Kurt doesn't know if Sam knows what he's saying, but he nods, which gets Sam to release him. They enter Kurt's room, which isn't very impressive, but it's quaint, and Kurt has letters from students that have graduated adorning the walls, and pieces of art from some of those students. Kurt catches sight of a bottle of lube he left out on the bedside table, quickly swatting it away, hoping Sam didn't see. He turns back to find the other man eyeing him.

"Suspicious," Sam says, and Kurt feels himself go red.

"I just- You don't need to- I-"

"Calm down, Hummel, I'm just teasing. Most everybody has sex, you aren't surprising me with any new information." Sam shrugs, then steps forward, almost stalking towards Kurt, as if he were some kind of wild animal. "Though, I've never seen edible lube before. You got a special provider or do you machine it in house?"

"Would you like a demonstration?" Kurt replies, stepping forward to meet Sam's eye level. Now that they're up close like this, Kurt can see how Sam is just a few inches taller than him, how his icy green eyes are much softer up close, how his chapped, pink lips pressed together when he swallows. Kurt almost licks his lips, barely restraining the urge to kiss Sam, kiss him hard. Sam locks eyes with him, and Kurt sees his chance.

He doesn't take it. It's too soon for him; if Sam takes it badly, he doesn't think he could handle it, especially not after he was just getting over Blaine. Instead he pulls away, backing up and letting Sam have some breathing room. Sam has something cold flash in his eyes before he pulls back, almost disappointed.

"I'm sorry." Kurt murmurs. "I got ahead of myself. I must have made you uncomfortable."

"Du bist ein verdammter idiot. Das oder du bist nicht interessiert und ich bin mir nicht sicher, was schlimmer ist. [You are a goddamn idiot. That, or you're not interested, and I'm not sure which is worse]." Sam says harshly before he all but storms from the room, shutting the door behind him. Kurt stares at the door, then at his hands, one of which is holding the lube and the other holding the doorknob. He sits on the bed, watching the door for a minute.

"What did I do?" He whispers, tears cooling his flushed cheeks. "What did I do wrong?"

\--

Students start laughing as they walk out, Kurt rolling his eyes, then he follows Bishop. He has a plan, and he's not entirely sure it's going to work. Bishop laughs and chats with Mason the whole way to their gym class, and Kurt watches as Sam purposely bumps into students to scare them. Kurt comes up and bumps his shoulder, slipping him a cookie with a note on the bottom. Sam turns and gives him a quizzical look.

"You said I could draw you whenever, right? Plus, I need examples to show my students for our ‘Subjects in Motion’ unit next month." Kurt gives a shy smile, watching as Sam slips his hand in his pocket and draws out the note. He gives the cookie a quizzical look, then shrugs.

"I did say that. Sit down and shut up, kay?" Sam bites into the cookie as he reads the note, then gives a small laugh before turning back to his students.

Kurt spends the entire 56 minute period sketching Sam and a few other students who are brave enough to ask. After the bell rings, Sam treks up the bleachers, standing in front of Kurt, poking him with a water bottle.

"Hey." Sam says. Kurt looks up just long enough to show he's listening. Sam hums, then continues. "I don't hate you. You know that, right? I just... I got flustered, is all. I haven't had anyone stand that close to me in... a while.”

Kurt looks up, then sits back, which Sam takes as an invitation to continue.

"I got flustered, and I mean, I reacted badly, I know. I'm sorry."

Kurt closes his notebook, then pats the bleachers next to him. Sam sits down, then leans on Kurt's shoulder, his head resting against Kurt's cheek. Kurt doesn't quite know how to react to that, so he just holds still, hoping Sam won't freak out when he realizes what he's doing.

"I'm super touch-starved right now, so just pretend I'm not here, okay?" Sam murmurs, relaxing as Kurt does. "I'm really sorry, I flipped out on you yesterday and now I'm just leaning on you, I-"

Sam cuts off when Kurt puts his arm around Sam, giving a light squeeze before pulling back. Sam looks at Kurt, who gives a gentle smile. Kurt might not know much about Sam, but he does know love languages, and being as someone who receives affection primarily through touch, he knows that being touch-starved is fucking hell.

"Take your time." Kurt murmurs, sketching the wrinkles on Sam's shirt as Sam leans more heavily against him. And something in him loosens when Sam's breathing begins to even out, right around the time he's fixing a strand of hair for the fifth time.

"Do you really think I look like that?" Sam mutters.

"What do you mean, 'do I think'? That is what you look like." Kurt laughs at Sam's obvious frown. "Methinks someone doesn't like how he looks very much."

"I like how I look just fine, I just think it's weird you're not drawing me like the greasy trash hobo I am."

"You do not- greasy trash hobo?"

"Have you  _ seen _ me, Kurt? I look like I just crawled out of the dump, and that's on my good days."

"I- You- NO!" Kurt shouts, sitting up and dislodging Sam. "You- You're smart and kind and trusting and funny and- You are-"

"Kurtie, I'm fine with how I look, I just-"

"Shut up." Kurt places a hand against Sam's mouth, which earns him a raised eyebrow, but nothing else. "I refuse to let you talk about yourself that way, okay? You look fine. Better than fine, you look gorgeous! You're kind, and funny, and sweet, and it doesn't matter what you look like, you have a beautiful soul and it shows, okay? I don't know how you can be okay with talking about yourself like that, but I'm not going to let it happen, okay?"

Sam nods behind his hand, and he pulls it away, breathing hard. Kurt pushes his hand against his heart, forcing deep breaths, pushing back tears. He knows why he reacted the way he did, but he wasn't planning on telling anyone today, and it's going to fuck with him.

"Kurtie?" Sam puts a hand on his shoulder, and Kurt leans into the touch. "Hey, what's wrong? What did I say?"

"It's not- well, it is you, but I honestly hadn't expected to talk about this today." Kurt looks up at Sam, the first tears slipping over his eyelids. "When I was younger, I had- I have, I still have it, I-"

"Hey, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to." Sam says, but Kurt shakes his head. Every time he talks about this, he hears the same things, and it hurts like hell.

"I have cancer." Kurt mutters. Sam pulls back suddenly before his hands catch Kurt's. "I know it doesn't show, but I have it in my heart and lungs. It's why I was so sick as a kid, and why I get so sick now. I've had it my whole life, but there's something about my immune system that fights it off, just not entirely. If I wasn't on meds, I'd be dying. I *am* dying, just slower now."

"Oh my God." Sam murmurs, and Kurt prepares for the usual questions; _ "How long do you have left?", "How come you don't look sick?", "Why aren't you getting treatment?", _ all that.

He does not expect Sam to ask "So these meds keep it from spreading?"

"Um- Yeah, yeah. They do, they- I don't know exactly how they work, Tina made them. All I know is once a month I go get an IV for fifteen minutes and I don't die. It's why I don't look like I'm dying."

"Everybody's dying. You could walk past people who will die today and they won't look like they're dying. There's only those who look alive and those who look close to death." Sam muses, sitting forward. "But I don't understand what this has to do with me calling myself a trash hobo."

"Because... I thought like that. I was skinny and sick and tired all the time, and when I started here, I was just done. I stopped chemo because I was tired of being tired, and I was broke. And a month later, I collapsed on the floor in the middle of my art class." Kurt shrugs, then absently sketches in his notebook. "I woke up in the hospital a few days later, in remission because of something Tina did to stabilize me on the way to the hospital. It's not complete remission, but it's manageable."

"And that's why you don't look scrawny?"

"Yeah. But I was so tired, Sam. I was actually closer to remission than I thought when I was on chemo. A few more months and I would have been completely healthy. And I stopped. I stopped because I was tired of looking at the sick face in the mirror, tired of people pretending to sympathize while secretly wanting me gone. I felt like a scrawny, weak, crippled little nobody, and it's part of the reason I tried to let myself die. My low self-esteem dragged me around, made me believe that the fight wasn't worth it. And it nearly killed me, Sammy. I can't-" Kurt is crying freely now. "I had a student who almost killed herself because of how she felt about her body. She told me the only reason she didn't was because I would always tell her she was a very talented artist. She said she didn't kill herself because she didn't want me to be sad. Do you know how horrifying that is, Sam? To be the only reason someone is alive instead of dead? I didn't have that when I needed it, and I refuse to deny it to anyone else. I just can't listen to you saying you look bad, because all I can hear is someone saying ‘I'm going to let myself die’. And I can't hear that, I can't, I-"

The sobs that have been pushing on Kurt's throat finally close off his airway, the choked sobs pushing through gasping wheezes as he fights for air. Sam presses a hand to his chest, grounding him, reminding him where he is. Slowly, he regains control of his breathing, and Sam pulls his hand away, nodding.

"I'm sorry. I didn't realize this was such a big thing for you. I honestly think that I look fine, but I feel like a mess, and I guess sometimes that makes it hard for me to remember that I'm doing ok. But I'm not going to kill myself." Sam pauses, then turns to face Kurt, looking up with tears in his eyes. "Can I tell you a secret?"

"Yeah.”

"I'm dying too. Not as quickly as I would be if I had cancer, but I am." Sam looks away, anger hardening his features. "When I was captured, the camp I was at had funding from the German military, and there were a bunch of German doctors there that did experiments on the prisoners. One of them fucked with me, screwed up my metabolism, and sped it up. All my organs are aging faster than they should be. Doctors said I'd be lucky to make it to 55. I'm dying, slowly, but I am. That's terrifying, you know. I'm 29, for Christ's sake! To be told that half my life is gone already, I-"

Sam scowls at the floor.

"I'm not going to kill myself. Not if this is all I have left. I'm not going to let anything kill me. I get maybe twenty more good years, and I intend to live all of them to the max. No stupid German fucks are going to have the satisfaction of getting me dead in what should be my golden years."

Kurt nods, then glances away. He shouldn't feel this relieved that he's not the only freak.

"55, huh?" Kurt asks. Sam nods, and Kurt smirks. "53. You get a few more years than me, but I guess you earned it."

"53? That's a weird number." Sam cracks a smile, the kind of smile that comes with morbid humor. "Almost as weird as the rest of you."

"Yeah, well, it's Tina's fault. That's what she gives me, unless she makes a better version of the meds. It doesn't bother me so much now, but it did a lot when I first got them. Almost stopped taking them, but thankfully nobody let me make that mistake twice."

"It stopped bugging you?"

"Well, it does sometimes. I mean, Artie is 45 and Elliot is 47, and they're half way through their lives. They have time, and that's not something you or I get. It kind of sucks, but I can live with it. It's kind of relieving, knowing when you're going to die."

"You are so morbid," Sam shoves him.

They leave the gym and get dinner together, spaghetti and meatballs from the kitchen upstairs. Kurt's pretty sure that it's the best thing he's ever tasted, and if Sam makes him laugh so hard spaghetti comes out his nose, who is he to say it wasn't a good way to spend his evening?

\--

"Happy February," Sam pokes Kurt in the ribs as the other man rolls his eyes.

“Happy February to you, too,” Kurt responds, kicking out the chair next to him for Sam to sit.

"What's new?" Sam asks as Blaine sits in front of Kurt. "Hello, Blaine."

"Nothing much? Morning Blaine.”

"Good morning to you both. Kurt, Tina wants to see you."

"Tina wants to…? Oh, shit! Right, right, right." Kurt gets up to leave, nearly spilling his juice. Sam catches it, then looks up, confusion on his face.

"Uhh..."

"It's the first of the month. I told you about the meds." Kurt tilts his head, and Sam's eyes get wider when it clicks. "Yeah, that's today. I shouldn't have eaten anything, I'm probably going to throw up."

"Hey, be careful." Sam says. Kurt scoffs, smirking.

"Yeah, I don't really have any control over that."

"Then just die, I don't care. Geez, I try to be nice and I get a face full of sarcasm." Sam laughs when Kurt flips him the bird discreetly. "Just go get better."

Kurt gives an easy smile, then walks towards the elevator. Blaine tails him, standing next to him as he goes to the medical wing on the second floor. The entire time he stands next to him, he gets the feeling he wants to say something.

"You told him," Blaine says after a moment, a statement rather than a question.

"Yeah, it just kind of happened." Kurt replies.  _ What does Blaine want? _

"You've never told anyone that fast before."

"He's just really easy to talk to, I guess." Kurt shrugs. "He makes me feel comfortable. I like talking to him."

"He makes you comfortable," Blaine parrots, scorn creeping into his voice.

"Yes, Blaine. Why is that such a problem? Maybe I just warmed up faster to him, okay?"

"Kurt, I'm worried for you. I know you were disappointed when I turned you down, and I also know that you don't always handle emotions well. It's possible-"

"It's possible that's none of your business, Blaine." Kurt snaps. Blaine immediately steps back, holding up his hands. Kurt stares straight ahead, focusing on his breathing.

"Kurt, I meant no offense. I just don't want to see you hurt if James doesn't reciprocate. I don't think it would do you good to be rejected when you're still-"

"I'm over you, Blaine." Kurt says harshly. "I have been, and my love life is none of your concern. If you were really concerned for me, you'd be telling me why he's bad for me, and not that he might break my heart. I know he might break my heart, that's a hazard of love. If I was afraid to love because I might get rejected, I wouldn't have a life worth living."

"Kurt-"

"Stop pretending you care about me, Blaine." Kurt opens the door to Tina's office, shutting it behind him. Tina looks up, the look on her face indicating Kurt had shut the door much harder than he meant to. "Sorry. Blaine seems to be under the false impression that I'm delicate."

"Ah." Tina goes back to prepping the IV, and Kurt thinks about the conversation he had with Sam two weeks ago.

"Hey, Tina?" Kurt lays back on the exam table and lets Tina attach the IV. "How does this stuff work again?"

"It's genetically tailored to your DNA, so it targets the cancer cells. It's similar to chemotherapy, but with very different medicine. But it's also corrosive to your organs, so you won't live as long as you would have if you had completed traditional chemotherapy."

"Ok." Kurt closes his eyes, humming a tune he heard Sam vocalizing. Tina ends up humming along, then pauses.

"Where did you hear that?" Tina asks.

"Um, Sam. He's been humming it for the past few days." Kurt frowns when he recalls Blaine's argument from earlier. "Blaine called him James."

"That's his name. I think he prefers 'Sam' because they used 'James' when he was in the army. Sergeant James Evans."

Kurt's eyes snap open. James Evans. He knows that name. He knows that name, somehow, he knows the name. James ‘Sam’ Evans. James...

"James Samuel Evans." Kurt murmurs. He sits bolt upright suddenly, letting out a sudden "FUCK!"

Kurt starts to get up, but he's dizzy as hell. Tina sits him back down, pushing him as his mind buzzes. James Samuel Evans. The name of his best friend from ages 5-8, nicknamed "Sam" by his sister Stacy. Kurt never really called him that, because he used a longer version of the nickname; "Sammy" instead of "Sam."

"I called him "Sammy." I called him a different nickname, and then I forgot about him for 15 years. I-"

"Ok, slow down. What are you talking about?" Tina asks, still pinning Kurt.

"Sam. He was my best friend when I was a kid. I met him when I was 5, he moved away when I was 8. His parents skipped town. I freaked out for three months straight, then just kind of dealt with it until I was 13 and then I forgot about him. I didn't even-" Kurt slaps his face. "I didn't even recognize him. The only people who ever called him Sam were his sister and I, but I didn't even really call him Sam. I called him "Sammy", and I've been-"

Kurt cuts off, suddenly embarrassed. The person he's been crushing on for the past three weeks is his first love. The first person he ever had a crush on just happens to be the person he's been drooling over for three weeks. He doesn't even know how to bring that up in conversation.

"Oh my  _ Goooooooood _ ," Kurt groans.

"Kurt. Please tell me you're ok."

"Tina. Tina, he was my first crush and I'm crushing on him and he doesn't remember me and-  _ Tinaaaaaaaa _ !"

"Ok then," Tina pulls the IV out, and Kurt sits up, mid racing. "Have you considered asking him?"

"Tina. How would I even-"

"He was your best friend, right? Surely you have letters, drawings, a picture?"

"I don't have-" Kurt cuts off again. The hand drawn picture. That's a copy of a photograph, a picture of them both.

"Okay. I think you know what you have to do." Tina whispers, and Kurt nods, giving a wry smile.

Kurt goes back down to the cafeteria, but Sam is gone, and so is Blaine.

Somehow, that ticks him off more than his little crush has been.

\--

"Sammy. You got a minute?" Kurt pokes his head into the teachers' lounge as Sam bites into an apple. Blaine looks up sharply from the corner where she's sitting, glaring at Kurt. Sam looks between them, then swallows and nods. "I need to talk to you."

"James. Ich meinte was ich sagte. Bleib weg von ihm[James. I meant what I said. You stay away from him.]," Blaine barks. Kurt is pretty sure that's German, but he's not sure.

To his surprise, Sam flips her off, then marches out of the room. Kurt gawks after him, then turns back to Blaine.

"What the fuck did you say to him?"

"One of us has to be the voice of reason," Blaine replies.

Kurt just leaves to room, shutting the door behind him. Sam is glaring at the wall, muttering in the same language Blaine spoke just a little while earlier.

"Ich bin nicht nur in die Idee von dir verliebt. Nur weil du mich an einen alten Freund erinnerst, heißt das nicht, dass ich ihn in dir suche.[I am not in love with just the idea of you. Simply because you remind me of an old friend doesn't mean I'm looking for him in you.]" Sam turns and glares at Kurt, who simply cocks his head.

"What language is that?"

Sam blinks, not having expected that.

"Uh, German. What did you need me for?"

"Two things; 1, where have you been all week? And 2, I wanted to show you something I think you'll find interesting."

"Let's start with thing 2." Sam hisses, running a hand through his hair, swearing when it catches on the tangles. Kurt hands him the notebook, open to the page of the photograph. "This looks-"

Sam stops, then looks at Kurt, a mixture of confusion and pain in his eyes.

"That right there is me and my best friend from when I was a kid. I would have been 7 when this picture was taken, and he would have been 8. He looks kind of familiar, no?"

Sam gently touches the picture, clearly reeling. Kurt taps his shoulder, grabbing his attention.

"How do you have this picture? You- Kurtie?" Sam eyes fill with tears, and he returns his gaze to the picture. "Kurtie... My Kurtie? My stupid punk?"

"Heya, Jerk." Kurt smiles, opening his arms. Sam all but falls into Kurt's arms, sobbing as Kurt holds him close. "I'm here, Sammy. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."

"I thought I'd never see you again." Sam sniffles into Kurt's shoulder. Kurt holds him, whispering a litany of "I'm here", "It's okay", and "I'm not going anywhere."

"We have so much to catch up on," Kurt says after a minute, and Sam gives a dry laugh. "I couldn't believe it, you know. I asked Tina about why Blaine called you James, Tina told me it's cause it was your name, and I put the rest together from there."

"God, punk." Sam laughs, smiling against tears. "Is now a bad time to mention I've had the biggest crush on you for forever?"

"This would be the perfect time to mention that." Kurt smiles, holding Sam. "You know, you were my first crush?"

"I should, you told me the second you caught feelings for me."

"Oh, jeez, I did, didn't I?"

"For someone with a perfect memory-"

"Hey, hey! We never said playing dirty was allowed!" Kurt laughs as Blaine pokes his head in the door, opening his mouth to say something. "Can I have a kiss?"

"Mmmm..." Sam gives Kurt the side eye, then laughs. "Ok. But just a little one."

Kurt catches Sam's cheek and slowly presses his lips down against Sam's, biting flesh slowly and allowing his tongue to explore all the reaches of Sam's mouth. After a minute, he pulls away, only to come right back, and how the second kiss is sweeter, much more deep and perfect than the first. Blaine mutters something in German behind them, and Sam pulls away just long enough to glare at him before he returns to kissing Kurt.

"You are amazing, you know that?" Kurt murmurs when Sam pulls away again. "The bad part is now we have to go teach classes."

"Yeah, that kind of sucks. I can think of a few other places I'd rather be." Sam glares at Blaine, then barks out in German; "Ich habe es dir gesagt, Blaine. Ich weiß was ich tue und du solltest deinen Freunden mehr vertrauen[I told you so, Blaine. I know what I'm doing, and you should have more faith in your friends]."

"Mm, scary." Kurt pulls Sam closer.

"Happy Valentine's day, Kurtie."

"Happy Valentine's day, Sammy."

**Author's Note:**

> do we like it? did i do hevans justice? let me know please :) also kudos are always appreciated. 
> 
> also holy crap this is one of my longest fics???


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